


DROWN

by glycerineclown



Series: state o' love and trust [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, F/M, Fingerfucking, Kink Negotiation, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, Slut Shaming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glycerineclown/pseuds/glycerineclown
Summary: Frank’s wearing one boot still, his pants around that ankle, his waffle-knit shirt still on, sleeves pulled to the elbows. He means business in an outfit like this. All that’s missing is a weapon, and he could be on a mission.Frank’s nothing if not deliberate. He has one hand stroking his cock, real slow.Karen’s the mission.





	DROWN

**Author's Note:**

> **STATE O' LOVE AND TRUST, NOW WITH EVEN MORE SMUT! READ THAT FIC FIRST.**
> 
> This is gonna get really nasty, I'm warning you now. It might be the nastiest thing I've ever written. But Karen asked for this and she's gonna damn well get it. And my Tumblr followers asked for it as well, so. I aim to please. This work is tagged with slut shaming to be safe, but it's relatively minor in my opinion, and definitely consensual. As with Permission, the choking is a hand around the throat, with very little pressure applied. 
> 
> Title is from another song on the Singles soundtrack, "Drown" by The Smashing Pumpkins. I almost named this after Paul Westerberg's "Waiting For Somebody," because Karen's waiting for somebody to come home and put the dick in, but that felt way too sugar-sweet for what this fic turned into (a total fuckfest).
> 
> [Insert Frank Castle gif here] “I know what I did. I know who I am. And I do not need your help.”

 

Frank calls her after eleven on a Monday night. It’s not weird—she’s in bed, but she’s up.

He’s had the dank studio in Jackson Heights for just over a month. Karen can picture him sitting against the headboard of his own bed, secondhand books on the side table he found on Craigslist, blinds permanently closed.

“You got plans Saturday?” he asks.

Her weekends are for Frank and laundry and not working, so it seems strange to have to ask. “I don’t know,” she says. “Do I?”

His voice comes through the phone like a warning. “I’m gonna come over late. Give you what you asked for, that first morning at your place. Long’s you still want it.”

Karen gapes for a second before answering. “Yes, I still want it.”

“Okay. You’ll get it.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. It’s a surprise, really, given how willing he was to promise at the time—she thought maybe Frank’s cock had taken over for him. That he hadn’t really heard her.

“Okay. Um, what time. I’ll be ready.”

“After ten, probably. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

Karen nods, because that seems like the most neutral answer, and grins, even though he can’t see her. She breathes out hard. She feels like she should _thank_ him. Maybe fling up her arms and cheer. “Uh, that sounds great, Frank.”

“Anything else I should know?” he asks. “Anything I should say, or—”

“Don’t tell me where you’ve been.”

Frank chuckles. “Mysterious. Okay. Anything else?”

Karen groans, and covers her eyes. “Just, like… run your mouth.”

“About you?”

“Yeah. Don’t hold back, if you’re thinkin’ it.”

“All right,” Frank says, and clears his throat. “How’re you gonna tell me, if I, y’know, if I go too far? With any of it.”

She hadn’t really thought about that. And she doesn’t believe he’d approach this without paying constant attention, especially not the first time. He knows her tells. “If I say no, or stop, I mean it. I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like something. But we could have a safeword.”

“Yeah,” he says. “What’s it gonna be.”

Karen sighs into the phone, and looks to the loaded gun sitting out on her nightstand. “Three-eighty.”

Frank snorts. “Point taken.”

 

Honestly, the next four days are torture. Karen’s mind keeps wandering toward their plan as soon as she’s not thinking about a legal case or food or what to wear. The plan where she gets thoroughly fucked, where he’ll walk in to find her ready and begging for it, in her posture if not her words.

She masturbates every one of those nights before bed, and decides not to feel bad for Matt and his nose, working in such close proximity to her while she’s so goddamned horny—he’s dating someone new anyway.

Frank usually swings by her apartment at least once during the week, but she can tell, he’s keeping his distance. If there’s one thing she knows about Frank, it’s that he will go all out.

She hardly gets any sleep on Friday night, her mind whirling with excitement, like a kid on Christmas Eve.  

On Saturday, Karen wakes up late. She makes coffee, takes a shower, and then sits at the edge of the tub to shave her legs. She doesn’t figure that Frank really gives a fuck if it grows out some, but she’s always kept her legs smooth for the sake of her pencil skirts, and she has the time. She cleans up the bikini line a little, too.

She does her nails and watches a movie while they dry, washes and irons her blouses, does some reading that she wasn’t able to finish during the week, and makes dinner for herself.

Around half past nine, Karen walks around the apartment and turns off all the lights, except for a lamp in the bedroom. She pulls the duvet off of the bed, and folds it up in the corner, by her closet.

And then she gets naked.

If she knew no one was coming home tonight, she might use her vibrator—but that’s too quick of a release for this. She lays down on her back, and slides her fingers down over her clit. She’s watched too much porn, for sure, but goddammit, she knows what she likes. And Frank Castle fits the fucking bill.

She won’t dare come before he gets there, before he’s inside her. Karen keeps her touches light at first, just skates around the lips of her pussy, and closes her eyes.

The last time he made her come, it was with her legs around his waist in this bed—Frank had left a string of barely-there hickeys across her chest, and was going easier on her neck while he worked her clit with his first two fingers. While he fucked into her.

He pulled out of her afterward, and spilled over her hipbone.

The red-pink marks on her skin barely lasted a day.

Karen turns onto her front once she really gets going. She doesn’t hear the key in the lock. What she does hear is heavy boots on the floor, and the whine of her bedroom door swinging open.

She’s up on her knees and one elbow, now, one hand between her legs, slow on her clit.                                              

When Frank stops in the doorway, he lets out a long breath.

Karen turns her head to look. He’s wearing all black, he’s—taking off his jacket, and approaching the bed.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Frank says, when he’s finally behind her, as he skims one hand over her ass. “Look at you.”

His other hand comes down lightly over one cheek—it’s more of a tap than anything else.

Karen grins, and pushes her ass further into his hands. “Please, Frank.”

He grunts a little, and—no warning, nothing—slides a finger inside her. “Got started without me, huh.”

The shallow thrusts he offers her with his finger aren’t nearly enough, but she stops worrying about that so much when Frank’s other hand settles over her ass, massaging into her skin, dipping his thumb between her cheeks.

He trails his fingertips over her skin before delivering the first smack. It’s light too, nowhere near what he’s capable of, and they both know it.

And as quick as they were there, both his hands are gone, he’s not touching her.

Arching her back, Karen whines, looking over her shoulder. “Frank—”

She sees when he lifts his hand, when it cracks down for real. Her arms turn to jelly beneath her, and Karen turns away, presses her forehead into the sheets.

“Fuck,” Karen says, under her breath.

And then his hand’s smoothing down the length of her spine, wrapping around the back of her neck, tangling in her hair. He’s leaning over her. “Did you like that?”

Karen nods. “Yes, please.”

Frank chuckles. “Might not like it when I get through with you.” And then he’s stepping back, and finding grip on her hips with both hands. “You know I’m no stranger to pain. Sometimes it feels right.”

He slides one hand down to squeeze a handful.

“Sometimes it just hurts.”

When he smacks her again, on the same side, Karen gasps—it’s involuntary, muffled by the bed. And then he does it a little harder, on the other side.

He slides a finger back inside her, and curls it, as he brings his hand down for the fifth time.

Karen hums, moving her hips and clenching down to get some friction on him. “Please, Frank.”

“I know,” he says. “I know how you like bein’ filled.”

It’s exactly the kind of condescending shit she wanted him to say to her. It wouldn’t work with anyone but him, none of it would.

Her next breath comes out like a whimper. “Yes, Frank.”

He slides that finger out, and then there are two fingertips at her entrance, two pushing inside, thrusting deep.

He’d beat the shit out of anyone who looked at her sideways—he’s got her on a pedestal, she knows. She’ll probably never be off of it, not even after tonight. If she believed that Frank could ever look at her and see anything less than a woman in charge of herself, a woman he loves, she wouldn’t trust him to do this.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t fixated on his cock, though. That she’s not begging for it beneath the surface. She chances a look back at him again.

Frank meets her eyes, and smiles, crooks his fingers inside her. “Is that what you wanted?”

Her answer might mean it’s all she gets. Karen bites her lip.

His other hand cracks down again, harder than it had previously, and Karen lets her lip go, cries out.

“Please,” she starts, panting. “Please, fuck me.”

The next slap is so loud, underhanded against the top of her thigh—and Frank grunts, still fucking her with his fingers. “So needy, aren’t you.”

Karen nods, spreading her knees further apart, gripping the sheets in both fists. “Want your cock, Frank. Please.”

“Why should I give it to you?”

She has no shame anymore. “You’re—you’re so thick. Stretch me open just the way I like.”

Frank sighs, and there’s a pause—she braces for him to spank her again, but it doesn’t come.

“All right,” he says, wrapping his hands around her hips again. “Feet on the floor.”

He tugs gently, and Karen climbs down from the bed, only for one hand to slide up to her shoulder, and bend her fully over the edge of the mattress.

She knew, she _knew_ he’d be good at this.

And that’s when his hands go to his belt, undoing the buckle, and slowly lowering his zipper—and then she can feel the fat head of Frank’s cock pressed into the cleft of her ass.

He drags the head down to her entrance, uses one thumb to spread her open, and presses between her lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you so deep, you won’t know which way’s up. Sound good?”

Karen moans, and nods. “Really good, Frank.” She might well have bitten off more than she can chew, but she’s gonna fucking swallow it.

Karen has to brace herself after that, because Frank’s hips slam into her like he was made to do it. The meeting of their skins causes sparks of dull, hot pain where his hand had struck her, and he grips her waist hard, and bottoms out on the second thrust.

“Jesus Christ, Karen,” he says. “Haven’t had quite this view with you before.”

He’s fucked her over the edge of the bed, but she was always on her back, always able to touch him, to give back with more than her pussy.

His voice drops, then. “You’re loving it, though, I can tell. Even though you think there’s something wrong with it—presenting yourself to be fucked like this.”

She nods into the pillow, and for the first time since he entered her, his hand comes down again, the loud _thwack_ of their skins juxtaposed with the nasty, wet sound they make every time he moves in her. The pain is about as much as she can stand.

“What do you think of yourself, Karen.”

“That I’m a slut for you,” she says, even as her breath shakes.

“Hey, you said it, not me. What’s the operative word there, huh? Is it _slut_ , or is it _for me?_ ”

She nods again, smiles. “Only for you, Frank.”

Frank grunts as his hand cracks down again, hard, and Karen cries out, panting.

“Your skin’s so pretty with just a little color,” he says, dragging blunt fingernails over one burning ass cheek. “Fuck. Bet that stings, huh.”

Karen nods.

“You want some more?”

“No, thank you,” she says quickly, it just comes out of her mouth that way—the contact of his hips is more than enough.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Frank says softly, and he adjusts his stance behind her, and pulls out.

Karen turns to look. “That’s not w—”

He shushes her. “I know. Get on the bed.”

She does, and hears a zipper—probably his combat boots, the _shirk_ of his pants coming off. And then she feels him behind her, bending one knee up onto the mattress, and then the other, and then his hands, dragging over her skin, up to her shoulders, to the back of her neck again, as he covers her with his body. He’s still wearing his shirt.

With no gunfire to shield her from, he’s just there to be imposing and powerful and all hers, just there to give her pleasure and take his own.

And then, his arms are around her front, so strong, pulling her upright, against his chest. He cups her breast in one hand, scrapes his teeth over her shoulder, slides his other hand over the front of her throat.

She’d love to come just like this—Karen whimpers, tries to grind back on his cock.

“Please, Frank,” she gasps.

He chuckles in her ear, kisses her hair, her shoulder. “You like it when I’m in control.”

She nods.

“You like when I take what I want.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“When I treat you like we’re just fucking,” he says, and his voice changes, he growls it in her ear. “Like I haven’t killed for you. Like I wouldn’t die for you—”

She needs to course-correct him a little bit, though. “Men who treat me like that don’t get to hear my fantasies,” she says, sliding her hand over the one around her throat. “You always make me feel loved, Frank. You’re doing this _for_ me. Not to me.”

He adjusts his fingers to stroke gently over her jawline. “Okay, good.”

When Karen turns, he allows it, until her chin’s pressed to her shoulder, her nose against his—and he kisses her for the first time that night, for the first time in days, and Karen hums into his mouth as Frank threads his fingers into her hair.

She doesn’t give a _shit_ that that same hand’s been in her pussy.

He pulls back, though. “You want me to fuck you now?”

Karen smiles wide, and nods.

He kisses her again, his hands dragging down her body as he retreats.

“Let’s see those pillows,” he says, and Karen reaches for them, pulls them down the bed. “Stack them in front of you, sweetheart.”

She does, places them at arm’s length, and then he’s bending her over them. She’s still up on her knees, though, she still has some level of control and movement—once she’s on her belly, it’ll be all Frank.

He grunts behind her, squeezes one ass cheek. It smarts a little, but Karen _melts_ , and sighs into the sheets beneath her.

“Knees together,” he says, and she obeys immediately. “Perfect.”

It’s a rush, the simple praise, enough to make her grin, and then Frank’s smearing his fingers down over her wetness, and rising up on his knees, and pushing inside her again. His groan is low, rumbling, it turns her on so much—he fills her so completely.

The only thing she’s missing is something on her goddamn tongue.

He sets a hard pace, though, not too fast, but he’s not holding back, the curve of his cock is pounding her in a spot she didn’t even _know_ she had, but it’s over, and over, and over—it’s so much, and she’s definitely not thinking about her mouth, she’s not thinking about anything except Frank. He’s got a hand wrapped around her shoulder, now, the other on her hip.

When she moans, it comes out in pieces, every time his cock drags out halfway.

She wants to be at his mercy.

Karen pulls in a breath and, sacrificing the last of her leverage, tucks one wrist behind the small of her back, and then brings the other back to join it. Frank barely reacts at first, doesn’t say anything—but he pauses, balls-deep, she feels his hands lift from her body and close again around one wrist, and her opposite elbow.

He presses her down into the pillows and grinds his hips into her, slow. She closes her eyes, and goes limp beneath him.

When he pulls back and shoves deep, the clapping of their skins starts up again, her back arched under his grip, the angle of his cock is next-level. Like every time he thrusts inside her, he’s just stirring the molten heat beneath the skin of her belly. Karen’s face is pressed into the sheets. She’s got hair in her mouth and there’s nothing to be done about it.

She might actually come like this.

He’s talking to her pretty soon, though. “Karen,” he says. “Check in with me.”

“S’good,” she slurs. “Yer so good at this.”

He chuckles, and then he’s releasing Karen’s arms and bringing them around to her sides, and hauling her up against his chest once more, but he’s inside her this time. Manipulating her like a doll.

“What was that?” he says in her ear, wrapping one hand around the front of her throat again. “I couldn’t hear you.”

She’s on her knees again. The sudden movement is making her feel a little bit lightheaded, her body has no fucking clue where her blood’s going, and god, it only intensifies everything else. His hand is still open at her throat, he never grips her hard enough to cut off air or leave marks.

“Feels so good, Frank,” she says, her head lolling a little against his, jerking every time he thrusts inside her. “I’m gonna come on your cock, just like this.”

“Is that right? Don’t even need my fingers on your clit?”

Karen shakes her head, and brings her hands up to pull her hair over one shoulder. The back of her neck is tacky with sweat, and she can feel the same through his shirt. He’s pressed against her back now, and they’ll only get hotter from the contact.

Her head’s clearer now, but she’s still on the verge. He’s got a thumb against her pulse, slowing her blood flow.

Frank drags his other hand up her ribcage and spreads it over one breast, until her nipple is caught at the base between two of his fingers. He squeezes, just enough, and Karen sighs.

“Fuck, Frank,” she breathes, grinding back against him, as much as she can. “I’m—ahhh, I’m close.”

She’s been building toward this for a good hour, now—slick has been dripping down her thighs—and the orgasm doesn’t sneak up on her, she chases that shit from her knees, meeting Frank’s every thrust, her head back on his shoulder, pleading with him not to stop.

“I’ll never stop, Karen,” he grinds out in her ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

Right when she’s starting to feel a little fuzzy, his cock hits her just right, and he releases his hold. She’s never peaked like this before, just from a hard fucking—it’s not explosive, but it’s full-body, makes her tremble in his arms. All other sensation falls away but Frank. She’s gasping, lets her eyes close, and he keeps going, his hips slowing as her breaths do.

“Whoa,” she says finally, as her orgasm peters out. “Shit, Frank.”

Frank’s hand leaves her neck as he lowers her carefully to the bed, and then she blinks, and he’s not inside her anymore, either.

They’ve been skipping the condoms, he’s been pulling out before he comes, he’s splattered all over her so many times now, hot and dripping on her skin. She half-expects to feel him come across her back, but he tells her to roll over instead.

She tosses away the pillows, and turns onto her back, lifting liquid arms to reach for him immediately.

He’s on her in a second, straddling her waist, his cock jutting out over her tits.

It’s an evening of new views tonight. She’s not going to complain one bit—her hands crawl over his bare thighs, up his stomach, and back down his veined forearms, happy to touch him.

Karen can really see him, now—Frank’s wearing one boot still, his pants around that ankle, his waffle-knit shirt still on, sleeves pulled to the elbows. He means business in an outfit like this. All that’s missing is a weapon, and he could be on a mission.

Frank’s nothing if not deliberate. He has one hand stroking his cock, real slow.

She’s the mission.

Her mouth drops open a little when she lets her gaze linger on Frank’s cock, but she won’t dare wrap her hand around him, has to tear her eyes away. She’s hardly touched him in days, though. She could just swallow him whole. She’s been so neglected, she loves the way he touches her when she sucks him, the way he’ll translate that for this scene.

Fuck, she wants.

Her eyes are drawn immediately to the bead of white at the tip of his cock, at the thumb that brushes it away—but his hand pauses, and she’s caught.

“What, you want this?”

Karen licks her lips, and nods.

His smile is crooked, now. He reaches for her face, grazes one fingertip down her cheek.

“Please,” she says, and that’s when he rubs the pad of his thumb over her lips, and lets her have a taste, lets her suck the entire digit into her mouth.

“I was gonna ask where you want me to come, but I think I know.”

Karen nods, hollowing her cheeks around his thumb, until he tugs it from her mouth—it makes an obscene _pop_ on its way out.

“Don’t have to do it like this,” he says, soft. “Any position you want.”

She smiles up at him. “This is fine.”

Frank rises up on his knees, then, and spreads them a little, walks forward until his kneecaps are right up against her armpits. His hands gather her hair back before she can do it, and he brings a pillow over too, tucks it beneath her head.

What a fucking gentleman, about to feed her his cock.

“You wanna do all the work, or you want me to?”

Karen slides her hands up his thighs again. “I don’t care, just keep touchin’ me.”

He chuckles and points the flushed tip of his cock toward her face, wraps his fingers around her chin. “All right. Open up, Karen.”

She sticks out her tongue and licks her own slick off his skin, drags her lips over him, wraps her hand around the base of his cock before taking the head into her mouth.

“That’s it,” he says gently, stroking her hair. “I never have to ask for it, do I. You love this.”

Karen hums around him and sucks. She can feel herself blushing red.

“Does it make the stress fall away? Like all you need to focus on is what’s in your mouth?”

She nods, as much as she can, and her eyes fall closed.

“S’how I feel when I’m eatin’ your pussy, Karen,” he says, making circles in her scalp with his fingertips. “Like nothing else matters. Gets me so fuckin’ hard.”

She’s already come—once Frank does he’ll clean her up and put her to bed—but god, she can feel herself getting wet from this, she could stand to come again. His hips swing forward by an inch or two, and she takes it, feels him bump the roof of her mouth. And then he does it again, one fist in her hair.

Karen lets out a low moan when he leaves her mouth. “Love it when you talk like this,” she says, pressing a kiss to the base of his dick, but that’s all she can reach while he’s got her by the hair.

“Filthy, you mean,” he says, wrapping his other hand around himself, tapping his cock across her cheek. “Make you feel like you’re not such a freak for wantin’ this?”

She chases, mouth open, and nods. She misses having him in her bed every night. The ten days or so that he spent at her apartment on _bed rest_ feels like seven or eight months ago instead of a few weeks.

“You want me to fuck your mouth? Use you?” He doesn’t say _like the slut you are_ , he doesn’t even say it in a particular tone, just attentive, just Frank.

Karen looks up. “Yeah. Go slow, though.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he says, and leans forward. “I’ll take care o’ you.” His own mouth is dropped open as he slides his cock between her lips, and he cups his hands around the back of her skull.

His thrusts start out shallow and slow—Karen closes her eyes and just lets him coast over her tongue, sucking gently. From the little noises he’s making, the open look on his face, Karen can tell that Frank’s loving it, but there’s no impatience in his movement.

He does sink further inside after a while, and Karen swallows around him, takes him as deep as she can. One of Frank’s hands leaves her hair to feel the intrusion in her throat, and she gazes up at him like she could convey with one look, just how much she loves being his.

He gives her a break pretty soon, pulls out. Wipes the spit from her face with his fingers.

There hasn’t been a single point so far where she could tell that Frank was ready to come—even with his cock in her mouth, his hips move leisurely, he doesn’t make faces like he’s fighting it.

She has to cough a little before she speaks. “You’re lasting a long time.”

“You complaining?”

“Never,” Karen says, grinning. “But I am curious how many times you jerked off today.”  

It’s Frank’s turn to blush, and he looks away with a small smile. “Twice before I went to Curtis’ for dinner.” He meets her eyes again when she wraps her fist around his cock. “You need a break?” he says. “I mean, I could come on your tits instead.”

“You’re so romantic.”

He laughs. “I tell you what, if it was romance you were lookin’ for tonight—”

Karen cracks up too, twisting her wrist as she strokes him. “I love you.”

It’s almost too much, the tender way Frank smiles down at her, touches her face. “I love you back.”

Karen bites her lip, and then releases it. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinkin’ about.”

“What, while I jerked off?”

She nods, and raises her head off the pillow to nuzzle into his cock, and licks a stripe up a vein before tugging him between her lips again. Frank’s quiet, and she looks up at him, raises her eyebrows.

“I was thinkin’ about the day you asked for this,” he says. “You knew exactly what you wanted. Talkin’ filth to me, first thing in the damn morning. No shame.”

Frank’s hands come down to cradle her head, and Karen smiles around his cock.

“I mean, it was a full-on fantasy.” Frank smirks, shaking his head. “You didn’t pull that out your ass. You’d been thinking about it for a while, for a long time, I bet.”

It was after Lewis Wilson—she went home by herself, never left her phone on silent. Kept hoping he would just show up, like he did on the sidewalk that day.

She spent so much time wondering if he was all right, if he had a roof over his head, and wished he would come to her. Wished he would crawl through a window, or pick her locks—maybe not even with a problem, but just to see her. Maybe when the cops were distracted with someone else, and his body was healed up, he’d want to have dinner. Test the waters. Fuck her brains out.

Karen hollows her cheeks, and Frank grunts at her, fisting his hands in her hair, but he doesn’t tug, he just lets her bob there.

“That’s it, just like that,” he says, soft, and Karen hums around him, closing her eyes. “You asked _me_ for that. You knew what I’d do for you. And you trusted me—you trusted me to be rough with you and not treat you like shit.”

The fantasy had come late one night, most of a year before—Karen was touching herself, and sweating into her sheets, had gotten up on her knees as some minor respite from the heat. She had little interest in casual sex, and her dry spell had driven her to watching porn more often than she’d like to admit. It sure didn’t hurt that she’d always loved getting fucked from behind.

When it came time to imagine a figure behind her, there was no one except Frank.

Karen opens her eyes, and looks up, blinks at him slow.

“You knew I would do this for you, no questions asked. And no matter what you think of what I do, I know that the way I do it turns you on. Some part of you loves that aggro bullshit when it’s coming from me.”

Frank uncurls one fist, and smooths her hair with his fingers.

“I know you don’t like me talkin’ ‘bout him, but—Murdock woulda judged you for wanting this. Woulda gotten hung up on why you liked it.”

She wonders how long he’s been holding _that_ one in, considers using her teeth—but also knows he’s right. Matt would have made her feel like shit about it, if they had ever gone that far.

Her body is not always a temple.

Frank pulls out of her mouth with a slurp, and wraps one hand around her jaw, like he did when he promised her. “You wanted to be fucked hard and well, by someone who loves you. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Karen breathes out, and nods.

With his other hand, Frank strokes himself with purpose. “You always know what you want, Karen. It’s so fucking hot. I was touching myself today, thinking about the way you said it, like you were desperate for it.” He starts really jacking after that, fast enough that he leans away to avoid clocking her.

There’s something she wants right now, and it’s time to get it. Karen grips the top of his thighs, looks up into his face. “I wanna feel your cum on my skin, Frank.”

He shudders a little and nods—and after two or three more strokes and a choked-off moan, ropes of white start to erupt from his cock, landing across her collarbone and one cheek, and dripping down over his knuckles. It’s probably in her hair, too.

“Fuck,” he says, through heaving breaths, and he sags, letting go of his cock, head and shoulders drooping forward. “Jesus Christ.”

Karen smiles up at him, and he smirks back, bringing his cleanest hand down to scrape the cum off her cheek before it drips toward her ear any further. He wipes it over the front of her throat.

Frank’s still breathing hard when he finally levers himself off of her, and sits down at the edge of the bed. Karen pulls up on her elbows, and smiles, watching Frank use that same hand to get rid of his boot and pants.

“You alright?” he asks, when he’s finally free of them. “I’m gonna go get a rag.”

She’d tell him he’s wearing one—he still has his shirt on—but she’s a mess, and her mouth is dry. “Could use some water, please.”

With a nod, Frank leans in, and presses a soft kiss to her mouth. Karen doesn’t let him go right away, wraps one hand around the back of his neck, and opens her mouth, sighs into his.

They’re both smiling when she pulls away.

“Thank you, Frank.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It was a real hardship, Karen.”

Karen giggles, and falls back against the pillows. She throws an elbow over her eyes as Frank gets up and leaves the bedroom. She listens to his bare feet on the hardwood in the hall, and then a cabinet opening in the kitchen, a glass clinking on the countertop, the sink turning on.

Her ass hurts. She’ll be sore in the morning, in the best possible way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://glycerineclown.tumblr.com), as always. This fic is rebloggable [here](http://glycerineclown.tumblr.com/post/183576338083/glycerineclown-state-o-love-and-trust-frank), if you're so inclined! ♥


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